


i will not ask, and neither should you

by smads



Series: like real people do [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: "when is season of the everyone goes to therapy", Angst, F/M, Grief, Guardian and Crow are not Together(tm) at this point but it can be read that way, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Cayde-6, To quote a friend, brief mention of character death, mentions of trauma, so that cinematic huh!!!!!!, that was really something!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29949858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smads/pseuds/smads
Summary: "I knew that look dearEyes always seekingWas there in someoneThat dug long agoSo I will not ask youWhy you were creepingIn some sad way I already know"-Like Real People Do, Hozier
Relationships: Female Guardian/Crow
Series: like real people do [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202999
Kudos: 14





	i will not ask, and neither should you

**Author's Note:**

> Guardian's name is Xora Hardwell, she is an awoken warlock. Her fireteam consists of Benja-4, a hunter, and Rin, a titan.

He had to warn him. He had never meant for it to turn out like this. He had never meant to be seen. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. His chest heaved as he leaned against a tree, far from where he just was, praying to anyone who would listen that he wasn't followed. His mask sat slightly askew on his face, after sliding it back on too quickly once he registered the anguish in Zavala's face. He was just trying to help. He knew he couldn't know why. But the way Zavala looked at him...so much grief, so much white-hot rage; a desire for revenge. His eyes burned for a second at the thought of what he-- well, not _he_ , but rather who he once was-- could've done to elicit such a visceral reaction from someone who is normally so composed and stoic and strong. And Ikora...barely spoke to him. Not for a long while. He knew he'd been a bad person. Osiris (and Spider, for that matter) reminded him damn near constantly. Osiris was insistent on his mask staying on every time he was out of his own heavily locked quarters. It troubled him. He knew Guardians weren't supposed to look into their pasts--and for good reason, but the ache of not knowing threatened to consume him every time Ikora couldn't meet his eyes, or just now, when Zavala looked like he'd seen some kind of horrifying apparition that had killed someone he'd once loved. His stomach lurched at the thought. He didn't even like the senseless killing of the Cabal. But whoever he was before...was some kind of monster, he was certain. 

When he transmatted back to the HELM, Osiris was pacing. That was never a good sign. 

"Osiris, I-"

"How could you be so stupid?"

"I didn't think he-"

"You didn't think _period!_ " The older man shouted back. Crow winced. He wished he could shrink. His mind raced with memories of Spider, and he tried to keep his breathing level.

"Someone was going to kill him, Osiris!" He asserted, straightening his back. 

"Zavala can handle himself, it was just a psion." Osiris set his jaw slightly, flexing his hand in a way that intimidated Crow.

"He was distracted, and almost lightless. If I wasn't-"

"Without your mask? Didn't Spider teach you that actions, even small ones, can have devastating consequences?" He practically spat. Crow bristled at the mention of his former keeper. He drew in a deep breath. He didn't remember the last time he'd felt this angry, defenseless. 

"Did your hunt for Xivu Arath teach you that?'

Osiris crossed to him in one stride, taking up nearly all of the space in front of him, "choose your next words...with an abundance of caution." 

Crow was sure Osiris could hear his heavy, nervous heart thrumming against his ribcage.

"You're right," he started, his voice pitifully small, "I should've kept the mask on. But I don't regret my warning."

He raised his eyes to meet Osiris's. 

"You could've ruined everything."

"I know."

\---

After their trauma-infused pissing contest subsided, Crow returned to his quarters. For a while, he just paced. For what seemed like hours. Surely, a trail would be left in his wake.

Two knocks came to his door and he scrambled to his mask. 

"Who's there?"

"It's, uh, it's Xora. The guardian. I was just- I heard you and Osiris arguing earlier. I'm just checking on you."

Relieved, he sighed. He fastened his mask to his face and unlocked the door for Xora. She was, along with Holliday, one of the only people he could call a friend. She slid past him.

"Please, you can, uh, you can sit here," he cleared a space at the table, "let me make you a cup of tea."

She smiled warmly. She was fond of Crow. Everyone seemed leery of him, and she didn't know why. Perhaps, someday, she would get the courage to ask. 

"I'd like that." She fiddled with her own hands as he rummaged through his cabinets.

"What kind of tea do you like best?"

"Oh, anything is fine, just make me your favorite."

"Perfect." He half-smiled, before realizing that she couldn't see it.

It was pin-drop quiet for a few moments, while he put a kettle on. 

"What was Osiris talking about?"

He froze.

"With Spider, I mean. Did he...hurt you?"

Crow leaned his palms on the counter, not looking in her direction. 

"You could say that, yeah. But I'm fine now."

"You didn't sound fine. Or...look fine. Earlier."

Damn her perception. He laughed, carding his fingers nervously through his hair. He could feel his face heating up behind his mask. Now was not the time. 

"Xora, don't worry about me. I can handle myself."

She got up from her spot at the table now, moving toward him, "I don't doubt that you can. I now how capable you are. I just want to make sure you're alright. That conversation was loaded. And I cannot imagine how it feels to be you. I'm sorry, Crow. I'm sorry that happened to you."

Nobody had said that to him in this lifetime, except for Glint, who, to be fair, was the only one who knew the extent of everything. The sound of the teakettle shocked him and he jumped slightly. Her face was steeped in concern. He pulled the kettle off the stove wordlessly, pouring the hot water into two identical mugs. 

Sighing, he replied, "I don't even know what I did to deserve it."

Her shoulders slackened, and she reached out gently. 

"Who you were before doesn't matter."

"It does!" He slammed his cup down on the counter, causing her to jump slightly, then started, softer, "It does. Nobody can look at me for fear of what they would do. All I'm told all day long is to not...look like me. And I don't even know who that is. I don't even know who I am. Who I was."

She stayed silent for a moment, coaxing him to say his piece. The grief of knowing you have to keep your identity a secret, for reasons unknown to yourself is a pain she could not imagine. 

"I must've been horrible. Ikora won't even look at me. Zavala...he looked like he would've killed me, if given the chance. Like he wanted to exact his revenge on me for...whatever it is, whoever it is that he feels I'm responsible for. I think I killed people, Xora."

His voice shook. He shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of the feeling. He raised his golden eyes to meet hers. 

"I think I killed people..." he stared at his own hands, flexing and relaxing them again and again. He repeated himself a couple more times, each time more and more distressed, before whirling away from her on his heel, and throwing his mask angrily at the kitchen wall. Everything in her wanted to reach out to him. She ached to make him feel better. 

"Crow." She reached gingerly toward his back. 

"Don't-" he cut himself off with a shattered breath. 

"Crow," her voice barely above a whisper, she put her hand on his shoulder. His head dipped as he visibly shrank away from her touch.

"Please. You have to go."

"Let me help you." She insisted.

"Xora, you can't," he said, shakily but firmly, tightening his grip on the counter, "for all we know, I killed someone _you_ loved and I can't risk losing anyone else." 

"The only people I've ever loved were dead long before you were a guardian, and given that one of them was killed by my own hand, I know you were not at fault. Please, Crow, just let me..." she trailed off as she slowly moved beside him from her position behind him. He instinctively turned his head sharply away. She could see him swallow hard, and his chest quiver a bit, despite him trying to conceal it.

"It's okay, Crow." She placed her hand on his cheek and, in a moment of weakness, he leaned into the touch. She felt him squeeze his eyes shut and rubbed his cheek with her thumb. Pulling his face out of its tucked spot in his shoulder, she whispered,

"Trust me."

He folded. He took the risk of this lifetime turning slightly to face her. He opened his eyes to try to read her face. She tried not to let the recognition flash too predominantly on her face as she remembered holding her fireteammate, Benja, as they mourned the death of their beloved Cayde-6. Crow's past self, Uldren Sov, had indeed killed someone. Someone important. Someone deeply, deeply loved. And suddenly she understood the mask, the secrecy, all of it. There would be bounty upon bounty on Crow's head if it ever got out. But Crow was not Uldren. Not anymore. This iteration was a clean slate, free from blame of his past self's transgressions, as gut-wrenching as they may be. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have-" He anxiously tried to push past her to get his mask but she stopped him with an embrace. 

"I told you you could trust me," she rested her chin on his shoulder as he stood limp for a moment, carefully calculating his next move. 

The way he locked his arms around her, she was sure nobody had hugged him like this in a very, very long time. Every part of her seared with guilt. Guilt over not being able to tell him, to tell anyone. Guilt over how hard it must be for Osiris and Ikora (and now Zavala) to keep quiet. Zavala had hardly slept since Cayde's death and this was sure to make it worse. He buried his face into her shoulder and she moved her hand to the back of his head. 

"You'll be alright, Crow. You did the right thing. Osiris may not see it yet, but...you were protecting the Commander. You did the right thing." She repeated, scratching his hair soothingly. She felt his chest shudder a bit and she tightened her grip, whispering consoling sounds into his ear. They stayed like that for a bit, interlaced as tightly as possible. At some point, Crow finally broke and openly wept into her shoulder, a lifetime of grief from not knowing himself, from hiding himself, from serving Uldren's life sentence in his body without ever being aware of the crime. All the while, she held him, reminding him she was there, always there. He took comfort in her. A while passed before he finally pulled away, wiping his face in embarrassment. 

"I'm sorry...about all of that," he turned on the faucet and ran cool water over his face, "I...I didn't mean to lose it like that I guess I just-"

"Don't apologize," she squeezed his arm affectionately, "you needed that. You are my friend, Crow. I will always be here for you."

"You've seen my face." He stated the obvious, leaning down over the sink.

"I have."

"Did you...recognize me?"

"I do. But your past self is not you. Who he was has no bearing on who you are." 

He smiled a little then, pulling her in for a half hug. She wrapped an arm around his waist lazily. 

"Thank you. Not many people...actually, no one has ever told me that."

She nodded curtly, and picked up her mug of now-cold tea. 

"I can reheat that for you, if you'd like. Or, uh, I haven't eaten yet. If you want some dinner."

She blushed slightly, hardly visible on her periwinkle skin. 

"I'd like that." 

He beamed, pulling a pot down from the cabinet above his head, "I make an excellent stew. Shouldn't take long. Let me just...reheat your tea and then you can make yourself comfortable."

As she watched him chop vegetables, she worried. Worried about Benja, about Zavala, about anyone else who may ever see Crow maskless. She knew it wouldn't ever be public knowledge. He'd have to hide forever. People wouldn't all be as understanding. It's hard, after all, when he shared the same face with such an evil person. She would protect him, as best she could, and even though he was angry with him right now, she hoped Osiris probably would too. Ikora, and, maybe even Zavala would probably come around. 

He handed her a warm bowl a while later, and, he was right, it was excellent stew.


End file.
